Guardian Ship

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  “Um . . . yeah, I’m here. But don’t approach. The beasts are all around us.”

  “We can already see that much,” Gordo said, hanging back three strides behind me.

  “Well, there something I’m betting you can’t see.”

  As if on cue, the mist swirled and momentarily separated as one of the towering beasts moved its bulk. There, not twenty feet in front of us, was Lori. Her body was elevated five feet off the deck, held aloft, cradled by two tusks. She was literally inches from being clenched within the beast’s jaws.

  “I guess I got too close,” she said nervously.

  The Swahili singing continued. I could barely make out the kids, seated together in their circle. They were clapping their hands now, some of them were laughing. The beasts had been treating them well, preparing them, and the kids must’ve thought they were in no danger.

  “Lori? What’s in the middle of that circle?”

  “It’s one of the beasts, lying on its side. Keeps moaning. I think it’s hurt.”

  “Shit!” Georgina said. “Not hurt, honey. More like pregnant. And maybe ready to deliver.”

  “Okay . . . What aren’t you telling me?” Lori asked.

  “Best you stop talking while I figure things out,” I said. I checked my vest—two more full mags, plus another full one I’d loaded earlier. Even if Carlo and Georgina had similar ammunition reserves, it still wouldn’t be enough. Each beast could require three or four full mags to take down.

  “Can you get me out of this . . . situation, Dommy?” She spoke softly, and I could hear the trembling in her voice.

  “We got this. Now stop talking.” I played multiple scenarios through in my mind. Each culminated in disastrous results.

  The deck plates rumbled beneath my feet—my first thought was that one of the beasts must be charging. Then I heard the unmistakable, far-off sounds of multiple explosions.

  Hannig’s voice was in my ears. “Dominic. The Retribution, it’s firing upon the Dominate. More missiles are inbound!”

  “Stay calm. Better yet, I have a job for you. Slowly bring the Watcher Craft to us. Back her in close, with her rear hatch open. Let me know when you’re here.”

  “I can do that.”

  Georgina said, “What are you thinking, Dommy?”

  “I’m thinking this is a no-win situation. But we may have one shot at saving those kids, Lori, and maybe ourselves.”

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m not going to like this?” Georgina said.

  “Because you won’t.”

  Carlo said, “Well, spill it. What do you want us to do?”

  Hannig said, “Dominic. I have done what you asked. The aft hatchway is nine feet behind you.”

  “Perfect. Be ready to put pedal to the metal on my orders.”

  Hannig didn’t reply—he looked utterly confused.

  “Be ready to get us out of here when Dommy tells you to!” Carlo said, far too loudly.

  “Oh, yes. Pedal to the metal. A human colloquial term that—”

  “Shhhh,” I said again.

  “Guys, one of my legs is now firmly grasped within the beast’s teeth. I think, perhaps, it wants to eat me.”

  “Hang tight, Lori.” I said, instantly regretting my choice of words. The Dominate shuttered and shook around us. More explosions could be heard, and these were a hell of a lot closer. “Count of three. On one, we charge to the middle of the circle. Climb up on that son of a bitch and point our weapons at the thing’s head.”

  “That’s it? That’s our great plan?” Carlo said.

  “Yes.”

  “Ahhh! My leg! Hurry!” Lori said, desperation in her voice.

  “Again, on one. Here we go . . . three, two, one!”

  We charge forward, maneuvered in between the sentry of Gorble Frits, ran past a dozen surprised-looking Kenya kids—all still dressed in their now-filthy school uniforms—and leapt high up onto the prone carcass of the pregnant beast. It huffed and moaned with our combined weight now standing upon its extended belly.

  Realizing what had just happened, and that their prized pregnant female was now in great jeopardy, a combined symphony of wailing cries filled the compartment. The beast beneath our feat squirmed and started to buck, perhaps attempting to rise. I fired off three rounds into the air, then pressed the hot muzzle into the beast’s top-facing ear. She got the message and became still. And, apparently, so had the others. Ten eyes, each the size of a softball, were locked onto us. I could feel the hostility, the hatred emanating from them. Good.

  “Carlo, come up here. Point your weapon at its head.”

  Carlo scrambled up close to me and did as I asked. The surrounding five Gorble Frits huffed and shuffled about. I jumped down and slowly approached the beast that was keeping Lori hostage.

  “You thought this idea up all on your own?” Lori asked.

  Only now, several feet away, could I clearly see her face. God, even with her blonde hair wet and plastered to her head, she was stunning. She said, “Hey! Do you mind concentrating on the issue at hand?”

  “Sorry. You look pretty good with wet hair.”

  She almost smiled, but instead closed her eyes and grimaced as more pressure was being put on her leg.

  I raised the muzzle of my carbine and placed it two inches from the beast’s right eyeball. It stared down at me for a full minute. The Dominate was shaking more violently now. Explosions were close—very close.

  “Ahhh!” Lori screamed. Her face turned red, contorting in agony.

  I didn’t know what to do. Fuck! This was always a stupid plan. And now I was about to get us all killed. Anger coursed through me. No, rage. Without any further thought, I stepped in, calling up every ounce of strength I could muster. I plunged the M4’s barrel right into that lone, staring eyeball. All 14.5 inches of the muzzle disappeared, piercing the eye and burying itself deep within the creature’s brain. The gargantuan animal dropped like a ton of bananas. Lori, her leg suddenly no longer trapped within the beast’s jaws, spilled out onto the deck. I hefted her up over one shoulder and stormed past the circle of quieted kids, the pregnant beast with Georgina and Carlo standing upon it, and darted in between two of the stunned-looking Gorble Frits beasts.

  Hannig was waiting for me at the Watcher Craft’s aft hatchway. I pushed passed him and placed her onto the bed. As she clutched at her leg, I thought I saw a semblance of that same, bemused smile. “You really are a crazy son of a bitch, Dommy.”

  I was already halfway out the hatch again. “Yeah, I know.”

  Chapter 55

  By the time I was back to the circle of kids. They looked scared now—several of them had started to cry. I put on a happy smile and said, in Swahili, “Who here wants to get out of here? And who here likes ice cream?”

  Georgina gave me a sideways glance as she helped round them up. “What’d you tell them?”

  I repeated it back to her in English. Leading them away toward the Watcher Craft, she said over her shoulder, “You better hope Hannig can come up with that ice cream or you’re going to be one unpopular dude.”

  I eyed Carlo, who was maintaining his post atop the pregnant Gorble Frits. He looked nervous. The muzzle of his M4 was positioned an inch above the beast’s glaring eye.

  The next explosion must have been close, because it not only threw Carlo from his perch, but me and the remaining Gorble Frits down onto the deck.

  “The ship is breaking apart, Dominic!” Hannig yelled into my comms.

  “Tell Caputo, Gary and Gordo to force those Wikk to get the shuttle out of here, out of that flight bay. I doubt they’ll protest—they wanna live. We can catch up on the way to the Retribution.”

  Gordo’s voice came on the line. “Why can’t we all just head out together? We can wait for you—”

  “No! It’s time for you to blow this popsicle stand! Go!”

  The Gorble Frits were attempting to rise up onto the now-constantly-shifting deck. I got ahold of Carlo, pulling him to his feet,
and together we ran for the Watcher Craft. “Hannig, I need you to do one more thing for me before we leave the Dominate.”

  We reached the hatch, Carlo first, and then I clamored inside.

  “Yes, Dominic?” Hannig asked.

  “We have to go!” Georgina yelled, standing among the now-petrified-looking children.

  I looked back to her and then to Lori, still clutching at her leg there on the bed. Carlo splayed his hands out in a frustrated gesture. “What? She’s right, we have to go, like now!”

  I saw Hannig—he was now standing in the passageway. “What is it you would like me to do?”

  “The bugs, those Marcrombe Chew Beetles here on the Dominate. Go ahead and reprogram them. Reprogram them all.”

  Hannig glanced upward. “System, please complete that requested task. Do so now.”

  “Done,” came the automated voice.

  I let out a relieved breath, “Okay, now instruct them, all of them, to come here. To get in the Watcher Craft. As fast as they can.”

  It took a full three minutes. It occurred to me within that timeframe that the Dominate should have been destroyed long before now. The commander of the Retribution was firing at the Dominate, but it seemed not with the full intent of destroying her—not yet anyway. Probably they were waiting for the shuttle to escape. But now that it would be clear of the flight bay, I knew this ship was mere moments away from being obliterated.

  Outside I heard the telltale me me me me me. Our little friends had arrived.

  “Move to the forward compartment! Move it!” I ordered. But everyone was already doing so on their own. Georgina and the kids, even Lori was hobbling along with the rest of them. The first of the beetles was already scurrying up and into the aft compartment via the back hatchway. I was the last one into the passageway. The panel slid shut right behind me. As I entered the forward control center, all eyes were on me.

  “How long before the aft compartment is filled?” I asked Hannig, who was seated at the controls.

  He glanced down to his board. “It’s already filled. To the ceiling.”

  “Then let’s get out of here. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  We caught up to the shuttlecraft in deep space, as it was slowly making its way toward the Retribution. Having close to a million beetles packed into the aft compartment had become more than a little disconcerting—the sound was almost unbearable. Most of the little boys and girls had their hands clamped tightly over their ears.

  Abruptly, bright flashes of amber light strobed in through the two portal windows—the Dominate had come to its final demise as a barrage of missiles totally eviscerated the Wikk spacecraft.

  “Good riddance,” Georgina said.

  Hannig looked up to me, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen it. “Dominic. We are not alone here.”

  I looked to the others, seeing if they had a clue what he was talking about.

  Lori said, “Alone here, Hannig? What does that mean? What are you saying?”

  Hannig gestured to the cold, dark expanse of deep space. “We are being . . . observed. Nearby, there are seven Watcher Crafts, nearly identical to this one.”

  I had no idea how Hannig knew any of this. Was it technology aboard the Watcher Craft or did Hannig have some other means of detecting them?

  Hannig continued without explanation. “Khantam Lom pilot observers, much like myself, are seated at the controls.” He took a moment to let that sink in. “Also, a large Cablah vessel, the Monistar, has arrived. One nearly as large as the Retribution. Of course, all of these vessels are veiled—you cannot see them, but sure enough, they are out there.”

  “Well. that’s all fine and good. But I’m not going to let that alter what needs to happen next. If they want to intervene, they’ll come to the same demise as the Wikk. I’m sorry, Hannig . . .”

  Lori interrupted, “Wait, what do they want? Why are they here?”

  Hannig stood, his eyes not straying from the blackness beyond the portal window. “Me. They have come for me. For days now, they have attempted to make contact. Pleaded with me to return to my post as an impartial Observer. I have broken Cablah law—I must be apprehended and disciplined.”

  I said, “Sure, they can attempt that, with all of us, later. But for now, we have work to do.”

  Hannig stayed silent. He positioned his little vessel close to the shuttlecraft. “Hold up, Hannig,” I said. I’d changed my mind. “We’re not going inside the shuttle. Take us directly to the Retribution.”

  Lori looked alarmed. “Wait. We need to drop these kids off in the shuttle, Dommy. Not take them into the mouth of the lion.”

  “Well, I’m just assuming the shuttle is far less safe. It could be targeted by the Retribution, or hell, maybe even that hidden Cablah ship.” I looked to Hannig for confirmation.

  Hannig looked like he’d swallowed something unsavory. “The Wikk would not be here unless the high-order Cablah . . . had allowed for it. Or, perhaps, even suggested it.” He lowered his head. “I should have been more transparent about this. I have a suspicion that my kind are not without blame when it comes to the invasion of Earth. Not entirely.”

  No one spoke for several moments.

  “I should turn myself in. It is me the Cablah want.”

  Georgina said, “Chin up, Hannig. I think you’re a hero. Not just to humanity, but to your own people as well. Even if they don’t know it yet. It seems there’s a lot they may not know.”

  Dominic said, “You’ve come this far, don’t you think the Khantam Lom people deserve to know the real truth?”

  Hannig finally raised his head. “Yes, it is time. But I am not brave. Not like all of you. I am afraid.”

  The alien man, slumped and beaten-looking, was carrying the weight of this decision upon his narrow shoulders. But only he could make that decision.

  “Hannig,” I said, my voice just above a whisper. “We are in this together. I won’t leave you. No matter what, we face this together.”

  “That goes for me too,” Lori said.

  Carlo shrugged. “Why not? Me too.”

  A smile crept onto Hannig’s lined and creased face. He sat and took up the controls, and together we headed off toward the Retribution.

  “Let’s start at the stern,” I said.

  A few minutes later, we’d cleared the Retribution’s hull. It was here, in the back of the ship that the vessel’s propulsion system was situated. Magnificent anti-matter drives hummed and vibrated as we passed though one magnetic containment field after another. A rainbow of colors infiltrated the confines of the control center. The mass of Marcrombe Chew Beetles went quiet. Outside the portal window, I saw we’d entered a wide corridor. And just as on the Dominate, there they were—hordes of Wikk crewmembers marching along in their odd form of lockstep, oblivious to our intrusion into their uncomplicated and predictable realm of existence. I gave the order. “Hannig, open the hatch, and command one quarter of the beetles to depart the Watcher Craft.” I looked to the others, expecting to see incriminating stares. What we were about to do was brutal. But there was none of that.

  Lori simply added, “And tell the little fuckers it’s supper time.”

  Outside the portal window, mercifully above the eye-level of any of the children, a virtual tidal wave of fast-moving beetles flooded into the corridor. The deck, the bulkheads, the ceiling above, all covered in a blackened mass of tiny bugs.

  The first of the Wikk crewmembers to encounter the little invaders crawling up onto its seven-foot-tall form was certainly surprised, but not yet frightened. It exhibited a curious expression. The Wikk’s mouth formed into a perfect circle, as if to say, “Ohhhhh.” And then the Marcrombe Chew Beetles began fulfilling their most recent programming instructions.

  The five of us stood at the portal window. The thirteen small children stood behind us, upon tiptoes, still unable to see what we were seeing outside. The beetles swarmed like a school of vicious, ravenous piranha, devouring Wikk aft
er terrified Wikk—not a one was spared. Each thrashed about in agony—flailing and singing their wailing songs until welcome death overtook them.

  We made two more stops mid-ship along the way. Hundreds of thousands of the carnivorous beetles were now moving about the ship, completing their singular directive, leaving deserted corridors and passageways in their wake.

  Our last stop was at the Retribution’s bridge, up near the bow of the vessel. As large as the control center had been on the Dominate, this compartment was far larger. And it contained far more Wikk crewmembers, manning innumerable consoles. I spotted her there, high above, looming over her minions. Her solitary form was on that second-tier mezzanine. It had to be Righteous Fist. She was strangely beautiful. A full ten feet tall. Her black, opalescent eyes peered down at her minions.

  “Do you think she knows what’s in store for her?” Lori asked at my side.

  “How could she not? She probably knew as soon as some first reports came in from the stern. Much of her crew is already dead,” I said.

  Georgina said, “Let them out, Hannig. Then get us out of here. I don’t need to see this all over again.”

  Hannig looked up to me for confirmation. I nodded. “And she’s right, we don’t need to stick around for the show . . .”

  Chapter 56

  “Hold up!” I said just as Hannig was reaching for the controls.

  Outside the portal window, Commander Righteous Fist was pacing back and forth like a terrified zoo animal trapped in a cage. Several skittering beetles had made their way up onto the mezzanine. Catching sight of them, her large angular head swiveled, her long, tapered appendages stomping the deck, unable to get them all.

  I turned to Georgina, “Can you take the kids to the back compartment? They don’t need to see any more of this.”

  She did as asked and returned a few moments later. “They’re back there. Some of them are playing. They seem to be doing alright.”